


To tell an edited story.

by CallmeDJ



Series: Fandom intros/works involving Jay and Dana [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Crack, Fluff, Hamilton watches Hamilton, Lams - Freeform, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, a bunch of different aus, gay bois
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29027430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallmeDJ/pseuds/CallmeDJ
Summary: Hamilton watches Hamilton in Hamilton, ft a very fed-up sailing class.-----------------------This is a redo of 'To tell a story'.  Won't be frequently updated, mostly because I'm less into the Hamilton fandom then I was, and have two other fics on the go.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Angelica Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Series: Fandom intros/works involving Jay and Dana [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954306
Kudos: 4





	To tell an edited story.

**Author's Note:**

> Sailing terms are explained at the bottom. The boat being used, for those who are interested, is an RS Zest.  
> Here's a link to a picture, yes I have sailed in one, yes the sail really looks like that. 
> 
> -> https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.rssailing.com%2Fproject%2Frs-zest%2F&psig=AOvVaw3kfkiO2-ztQc2z1ulvQK-X&ust=1611929609957000&source=images&cd=vfe&ved=0CAIQjRxqFwoTCODFqfPnvu4CFQAAAAAdAAAAABAu

Thomas Jefferson expected to wake up in a doctor’s office or on the floor when he passed out in the middle of a debate.

What he did  _ not  _ expect was to wake up on a small sailboat that was tipping dangerously close to the water with two young girls singing loudly and badly.

“Two Virginians and an immigrant…”

“Two vaginas and an incest!”

...he had heard enough. He struggled to sit up in the small space he found himself sprawled in, but before he could do much, the girl with her hand on the tiller yelled

“Tacking!”

The next thing he knew, something blunt, metal and heavy had caught him around the side of the head, and he was falling, falling into the water. It didn’t take long, but it was quite the shock to his system as he hit the cold water.

He flailed out his arms as he went under, managing to catch the side of the boat, which he clung onto for dear life.

Someone was yelling, as strong yet small arms hoisted him back into the boat.

One of the girls, a blonde with a slim, rather angular face and bluish grey eyes, put a hand on his shoulder.

“You ok there? That looked painful.”

The other girl, a brunette with long brown hair tied back in a braid, a round, freckled face, and her hand on the tiller spoke:

“Word of advice my dude? When I yell ‘tacking’ that means you need to duck. Otherwise, you’ll get hit with the damn boom.”

Thomas glared.

“You could stand to be a little bit more polite. I  _ am  _ the Secretary of State after all. And what the hell are you wearing?”

Both girls wore large life preservers, overtopping the skimpiest outfits he had ever seen. In the case of the brunette, a black one piece, with slim straps that ran across her shoulders and didn’t even attempt to cover her legs.

The blonde wore something similar but in teal and white that showed off her midriff.

The brunette scowled in response.

“Number, that’s bullshit, also we could still dump you back into the water and leave, number two, they’re bathing suits, what did you think they were.”

She then called out across the water to another boat.

“The first ginger’s awake, but he’s delusional. Think he hit his head on the boom too hard! He thinks he’s the Secretary of State!”

Another voice yelled back.

“Well, we  _ did  _ find old timey weapons on one of them. Unless they’re actors.”

Thomas decided to enter the conversation:

“I’m not delusional!”

The brunette rounded on him.

“You are telling me that you are the Secretary of State, in Canada, in which that position  _ does not exist.  _ Please explain how exactly this makes sense.”

The man spluttered.

“Wh-what? Why are we in Canada? Last I checked, I was supposed to be in New York!”

“Well currently you’re in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada, not New York. You better be glad you ain't in New York. Tacking.”

Thomas just barely avoided getting hit again.

“Wait, they named a city after Hamilton?”

The brunette made a point of rolling her eyes.

“Yes. George Hamilton who apparently founded the place. I will say, it kinda sucks, but, I mean, it’s where I live so…”

Thomas was getting sick of the girl’s brazen disrespect for authority.

“Do not roll your eyes at me, madam! You have no idea who I am, and if you did, you would have quite changed your tune!”

The girl raised an eyebrow.

“Oh really? Who are you then?”

He cleared his throat, and with a triumphant smile, said:

“My name is Thomas Jefferson.” 

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, certainly an apology.

What he did not expect was for both girls to keel over in laughter. 

Then the boat started listing more, and they had to get back to their respective jobs.

The blonde wiped a tear of mirth from her eye.

“Oh man. For real though, what’s your name?”

He gave her a look of confusion.

“I just told you.”

Both girls stared at him. Then they looked at each other. Then they looked back at him.

The brunette spoke up first.

“I mean, he doesn’t  _ look  _ drunk or high. And I do have a decent, if not foolproof way to see if he’s lying.”

She looked him dead in the eyes.

“Who raped Sally Hemings?”

Thomas scoffed.

“Who cares? She’s a slave, she doesn’t have a choice.”

The look of pure rage in both girls' eyes took him aback. 

The scowl on both faces grew deeper.

The brunette spoke: “Buddy, you’re incredibly lucky that your friend is bleeding out and we need to get him some help quickly.”

Jefferson’s eyes widened. “What?! Who?!”

The brunette gave a dry, humorless laugh: “How am I supposed to know? He’s blonde, he’s dressed weirdly, and he has a bullet lodged in his shoulder. We’re lucky that someone was old enough to use the coach boat, and decided to bring it. We got the guy bandaged up, but it’s better for us to get him back to shore. This is going to be an all hands on deck situation, no pun intended. Honestly? He’s lucky we found him when we did. Tacking.”

Jefferson ducked again.

They sailed in silence, broken only by the shouts of “Tacking” that came with every switch of the boom.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, quick lesson on boats: 
> 
> The boom is what attaches the bottom of the sail to the mast. 
> 
> Tacking is what it's called when you turn while facing upwind.
> 
> When you're sailing upwind, you have to tack continuously, because if you head straight into the wind, you'll go into what's called 'irons' and be unable to move. 
> 
> When you tack, the boom goes across the boat, because the wind is now on the other side of the boat. I can't speak for other sailing groups, but for us, we have a bad-luck boom; a golden one. Ironically, that's the one the newbies always want.
> 
> Thanks for reading, have a nice day!   
> -DJ


End file.
